


Stuck on You

by lds



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: Episode: s5e04 never happened, M/M, Not that the author has anything against that episode, Season 5 AU, Yuletide 2013, it just interferes with the plot, she enjoyed it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 11:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lds/pseuds/lds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry leaned forward, his chin tucked into his hand, as he took in his cousin to try and judge if he was serious. The alcohol may have muddled his thought processes, a benefit to his cousin who would get a confession out of him. That thought made Henry realize he did in fact have something to admit. He let his head fall forward and hit the table; he had definitely consumed too much beer tonight.</p>
<p>Edited to fix that 3rd chapter. Not sure how it got broke, it looked fine when previewed before posting. *sigh*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jougetsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jougetsu/gifts).



> Beta'd by lilliburlero and Bridgh with me eternal gratitude. All remaining errors are mine, pretty much one of the few things I actually own in this story.

It started with a drunken conversation with his cousin. Henry Higgins wasn't one to disown family over something he firmly believed was part of their nature, not a simple choice of lifestyle. It just was his way. When he was younger, Henry had assumed that a person could only truly be attracted to one sex. He based this idea on observation of his cousin, whose parents had introduced him to various women in an attempt to _fix_ his problem, though he showed no interest in any of them beyond that one would show any acquaintance.

As far as Henry knew, everyone else in his family believed it was simply a matter of finding the correct woman. He, on the other hand, believed that his cousin only indulged his parents to keep his relationship with his family in place. Not everyone was as accepting or tolerant, but as long as his mother and father hadn't given up on him, no one else would cause trouble. It was this understanding that Henry had based his thoughts for quite some time, only to have it be altered dramatically when he had to admit, if only to himself, that he could understand how one man could become attracted to another. Though not to the point where he would act on such things, not like his cousin. It was only on occasion anyway. Henry had found that he was more likely to be drawn, as a general rule, to the fairer sex. Or at least that was what he told himself.

Of course, all of this had little to do with the conversation that would change Henry’s life; merely stray thoughts down less traditional paths that occurred to him from time to time. Once the conversation happened he could no longer hide from himself, and it became a struggle to hide the truth from everyone else, especially those he most needed to conceal it from.

“It’s like we never hang out off duty anymore,” Henry whined into his beer as his cousin patted him on the back comfortingly.

“That’s what you get for falling for a man who is only interested in the female form.”

“Wha?” Henry snapped his head up, now sitting rigidly in his seat. “It is not like that. I just miss having someone to go places with; places and events you couldn't take a respectable girl. Of course, he’d probably take her, though. She’s one of those modern women.”

“I would think so.” His cousin snorted, trying to hold back an inappropriately timed laugh. It would only upset Henry even more. “She is a doctor after all. But we’re focusing on your secret love for him, not your animosity against her.”

“Not in love with _anyone_. And I like her well enough, I just wish she would stop dominating all of his free time, not to mention a good amount of his work hours. Always consulting with her about something or other Detective Murdoch has him working on. Practically only works with me when ordered to by the inspector or detective.”

“Ah yes, Detective Murdoch. An interesting fellow, yet I only get here about his accomplishments through stories starring George or complaints about his attempts to impress the detective.”

“That’s not true,” Henry insisted with a slam of his fist on their table. “It might come across that way because George is often part of the story when it comes to Murdoch.”

“Keep telling yourself that.” His cousin laughed and gave Henry a slap on the back. “You are obsessed with that constable of yours. Just admit it and you’ll feel better.”

Henry leaned forward, his chin tucked into his hand, as he took in his cousin to try and judge if he was serious. The alcohol may have muddled his thought processes, a benefit to his cousin who would get a confession out of him. That thought made Henry realize he did in fact have something to admit. He let his head fall forward and hit the table; he had definitely consumed too much beer tonight.

His cousin leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Told ya.”

The next day found Henry back on shift doing desk work instead of the foot patrol. He usually didn't mind a day at the desk as long as it doesn't involve fingermarks. There was something frustrating about going almost cross-eyed looking for a match only to having Detective Murdoch pop up at the last minute and say whose they should actually check. He didn't care what George said, it did happen a lot.

Ah, yes, George Crabtree, the reason why Henry was feeling disconcerted about sitting at his desk for the day. When he was assigned such duty, it was inevitable that George would be assigned the same. Suffice to say that after last night’s bout of self-discovery he was getting little work done. Instead he found himself surreptitiously glancing at the man seated at the desk across from him. Although he was possibly not as stealthy as he thought he was being, given the currently confused look on George’s face.

“Is there something bothering you?” George asked, his concern showing in his voice. “You haven’t quite been yourself today.”

Henry flushed a little at being caught out; embarrassed, he mumbled in reply, “Nothing’s bothering me. Just a little tired.”

“If you’re sure, because if you need to talk...” George gave a little wave of his hand. Before Henry could give an answer, he was interrupted.

“George,” Emily Grace called as she crossed the station house. Both men turned towards her and Henry couldn't help but catch through the corner of his eye how George’s expression changed to the expected an bright smile upon seeing her. Emily smiled back as she stopped at the side of George’s desk. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

“Of course not,” Henry stated testily as he turned back to his work. He could feel George’s disapproval sweep over him before the man struck up a conversation with his visitor. Henry thought he should try and avoid letting the situation affect how he was around Dr. Grace; it wasn't her fault he had feelings for her guy, ones that would never have seen fruition even if she wasn't around. He should be happy that someone he cared for has found a suitable companion, one who understood and appreciated him as he was. As Henry would. Though he often wondered about George’s peculiar theories – the man tended to know the strangest things from the oddest of places – but he chalked that up to a writer’s imagination and its tendency to bleed into real life, something Dr. Grace seemed fully to understand. She even went as far as to encourage some of George’s ideas, but then she had some interesting ones herself.


	2. Chapter 2

Henry guessed that he hadn't gotten into too much trouble because of his less than friendly attitude the last several days. It was generally confined to when Dr Grace was around, try as he might not to let the situation influence his behaviour toward her. It seemed that the harder he tried, the harder it got for him to keep his frustrations out of his voice. And, of course, she and George were not the only ones to notice. Detective Murdoch and Inspector Brackenreid, among others, were aware of his attitude of late. Mind you, Detective Murdoch probably would have picked up on it without hearing it in his voice or even being in the room as the same time as them. Henry had gotten a little lost in his thoughts and ended up missing a few questions from his drinking companion.

“Are you sure you want to be here? You seem distracted. I wouldn't be offended if that were the case.” George contemplated his words for a moment. “Well, maybe a little but I’d get over it quickly enough, I think.”

“No, no,” Henry reassured his friend, finding, perhaps, too much of a thrill in the fact that George would be at least a little put out that Henry wouldn't want to be with him. “Just a little woolgathering.”

“If you’re sure,” George reiterated.

“I’m sure,” Henry confirmed. “Though I have to admit, I've lost track of what we were talking about.”

“I believe I have too,” George admitted with a little shrug. “That may have more to do with the amount we've consumed and less with any woolgathering one of us may have been doing.”

“Too true,” Henry had to admit, before adding in a teasing tone. “However, it is possible that it is you who wish to be somewhere else.” 

“Most definitely not,” George denied animatedly, with a vigorous shake of his head. “I am; however, somewhat concerned about our level of inebriation given we do have to work in the morning.”

“I guess foot patrol would be a challenge hung over,” Henry said with a sigh. He was loathing the end of the evening as it was the first time the two had been out, just themselves, in quite some time. Unless you counted their patrols, although strictly speaking, he was sharing George with the city of Toronto during those. Fortunately, the city was less inclined to interrupt than those at the station house or morgue and was likely to have a better reason. Not the most charitable of thoughts, but life had been frustrating of late.

Realizing he had once again missed something George had said along with the fact that his friend had stood up, Henry had to prompt the man to repeat himself.

“I was commenting on the fact that the station house would be harder on the nerves, but I guess that would depend on where we patrolled,” George informed him. “Now, given the fact that your mind keeps wandering, I am either boring you or it’s time we got you home to bed. Given that the later doesn't speak ill of me, I’m going to assume it’s that one.”

George had in fact lost Henry’s attention right around the time he mentioned Henry’s bed. In his defence, a person couldn't really expect him to still be listening after his crush started talking about bed no matter how innocently it was meant. He was rudely roused out of his thoughts when George’s hand clasped his shoulder and pulled him out of his chair. As George was doing this, he muttered, mostly to himself, “Let’s get you home before you walk in front of a carriage or something.”

Henry brushed himself off and sighed. “You’re probably right.”

He started toward the door with George following a few steps behind. Before they stepped outside, Henry turned around and said, “You said something about getting me home; you really don’t need to, as I am neither more than mildly intoxicated nor temporarily dimwitted.”

“Probably not,” George admitted. “But if you were one of the two, I couldn't very well trust your judgement, now could I?”

Given that Henry couldn't argue with George’s logic - after all he couldn't exactly prove he was neither - he found himself being escorted home. Not that he minded the company as it got him more time alone with the one person he wanted to be alone with the most.

The walk was not unlike one of their patrols, minus the uniforms and interruptions from citizens needing assistance. George was regaling him with a story from the latest investigation he had been on with Detective Murdoch. An incident that, while not funny at the time it happened, was proving quite humorous in hindsight. George’s way of telling it was making it even more comical and Henry was quite enjoying it, He thought to himself that perhaps he should liken this to a lover’s stroll, not work. There was no real harm done if he should allow his imagination run wild. George would be none the wiser and he could pretend to have exactly what he wanted, if only for a little while. But there were dangers with allowing oneself to indulge in such flights of fancy even if it was just within one’s own mind. There was always the possibility that the person will get caught up in the moment and forget that it was not real.

Poor Henry, he had almost made it home without such a fate befalling him. If only they hadn't stopped for a moment in a quiet, more secluded area - but they did. George was looking at him expectantly, giving Henry reason to suspect he had once again missed a question or comment. He didn't really care though as all he could think was that the other man looked immensely kissable. It was that thought that had him leaning forward and pressing his lips against George’s soft, surprisingly pliant ones. The kiss was a rather chaste one as kisses went, though Henry did enjoy it. At least until his brain caught up with what his body was doing. At that point he jumped back from George and bolted into the night. He could hear the other man call after him, but there was no way he was turning back to be censured. He wasn't up to facing what was the very likely the end of one of his most important friendships. Especially since it was all due to his own actions.


	3. Chapter 3

It was with some reluctance and a heavy heart that Henry went to the station house the next day. He knew he would need to face George at some point, but he just wasn't ready to do so yet. If he was being honest with himself, he would have to admit that he’d probably never be ready, but as this mess had been brought on by a round of such honesty, courtesy of his cousin, Henry was more than inclined to take the self-delusion route for a while.

“Nice of you to join us, Constable Higgins,” Inspector Brackenreid said. “I was starting to wonder if you still worked here.”

“Now, he isn't that late, Inspector,” Detective Murdoch said in Henry’s defence. “Although I am glad you are here.”

Henry took in the two men standing near his desk along with an unusually quiet George, who was staring steadfastly at the station house floor. _That makes one of you_ , Henry thought before apologizing, “A bit of a rough start this morning. I do apologize for the tardiness, it won’t happen again.”

“That’s all well and good,” the Inspector replied. “But, we do have police business to conduct this morning. Business that had been delayed until your arrival. Murdoch here needs you and Crabtree to bring in a witness.”

Henry was uncertain why it had to be him and George. It’s not like they were the only two constables at the station house. There was in fact quite a large staff of officers to choose from, or George could have simply gone alone.

“The man isn't a suspect, but I do want to interview him here,” Detective Murdoch stated and went on to explain why they wanted two constables for the job. “He may be somewhat recalcitrant so it is best that two of you go as a precautionary measure.”

“I assume you are speaking of Mr McLaren, Detective.” George spoke quietly, still looking at the floor, It was clear to Henry that his actions the night before had shaken the man.

“That is correct, George,” Murdoch confirmed with a slight nod.

That was how Henry found himself alone with George moments later. Well, as alone as any person could be on the streets of Toronto on a Saturday morning. George had now become the one person he didn't want to be alone with, an interesting twist, as it had all got started because he couldn't stop complaining to his cousin that he had hardly any time alone with the man anymore. They walked for a while without acknowledging on another until George broke the impasse.

“I believe we should talk about last night.”

“I think that is the last thing we should talk about,” was Henry’s sharply delivered reply.

“I’m serious here, Henry. We need to clear the air,” George insisted. “Put ourselves on the same page about what happened.”

“Look, I can’t deal with this right now.” Henry rubbed his temple, in as much as an attempt to gain his companion’s sympathy as to actually address a nagging headache. “Can we please focus on the task at hand?”

Henry was grateful for George’s choice of words. No blame was being assigned. No accusations being thrown around. He also knew that his tone and attitude probably had him coming across as the injured party, when he should be feeling guilty, but he really couldn't handle any discussion at the moment. Not one about work, or the weather, let alone his own stupidity the night before. He was barely holding himself together as it was.

The rest of the walk was done in complete silence, an uncomfortable experience that Henry would prefer to never repeat. As George knocked on the door, he almost hoped that things wouldn't go smoothly, anything to distract from the tension between the them. Almost. He wasn't quite mad enough to actually want it. Unfortunately, he might as well have made the wish, since the situation went straight downhill the moment Mr McLaren opened the door and saw two constables standing there. Recalcitrant indeed.

“I’m not going with you,” the man stated in a heated tone for the third or fourth time since they arrived. He was rather large and Henry wasn't exactly sure they were supposed to get him to the station house if he didn't want to go. “I’ve not done anything wrong and don't want to help you lot enough to waste my day off cramped up in some damn room.”

“No one thinks you've done anything wrong, sir,” George explained patiently, if somewhat repeatedly. There were only so many ways you could say to someone they were not a suspect and he had used each of them at least once. “We simply need you to come down to the station and answer a few questions.”

“Why don’t you just ask them here?” the man inquired. He folded his beefy arms over his wide chest. Definitely not moving him against his will, Henry thought to himself.

“Well, sir, it is not us who need to speak to you,” George explained. “It is Detective Murdoch; he is the one investigating your next door neighbour's murder.”

“Then tell him to come here,” McLaren snapped. “Don’t see why I should have to inconvenience myself for him to do his job."

Henry was feeling inclined to go back to the station house and do just that. The man appeared to have no interest in helping put any criminals away. You’d think he would, given the murder had happened in the next apartment over, but people often didn't. Next to him, George pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment before giving his head a little shake and continuing his quest to get the man to come with them. He probably had a headache coming on from the ongoing circular argument. They had been here long enough to attract a few neighbours, mostly ones peeking out of their doors, all of which appeared easier to deal with than Mr McLaren.

“The detective probably needs to review some of the evidence with you as part of his questioning,” George expounded. It was a sound reason for a witness to need to come in even if Detective Murdoch had not mentioned any such thing. 

“It’s not like he can bring that stuff here,” Henry added in support of George’s logic. “The evidence must be kept safe to prevent corruption or loss.”

Mr McLaren just snorted in response. However, a voice behind them demanded, “What kind of evidence? ’Cause if you think I’m letting you railroad my pa for something he didn't do...”

The two constables spun around to find a young man nervously holding a knife. Neither constable had any idea who the man or his father was. Henry felt Mr McLaren stiffen behind them. He guessed the man probably did know who they were facing and it was that which was making him uncomfortable as he didn't strike Henry as the type to be bothered by a knife, be it pointed him or anyone else.

“Now, nobody’s going to be railroaded for any crimes here,” George stated as he tried to mollify the younger man. He stepped closer, hands held out in front in an attempt to appear nonthreatening. “How about you put that knife down and we talk about it?”

The young man, however, was not appeased. He plunged forward, driving the knife into George’s side then quickly pulling it back out. When he saw blood he screamed, dropped the knife, and ran down the hall as George fell to the floor.

“That boy is plum crazy. His mother should have had him locked up long ago.”

Great, Henry thought as he dropped to his knees beside his friend, now he decides to be cooperative. “George,” he cried as he took in his friend’s now pale complexion and closed eyes. Some cloth landed near him. Grabbing it, Henry applied to the wound to stay the flow of blood. Rather than thank the man for something to hold against the injury, Henry demanded through gritted teeth, “Now how about you get some help, like an ambulance?”

“Don’t have a telephone, but the building manager does,” McLaren informed him as he started down the hall in what Henry hoped was the direction of the telephone. He wasn't feeling particularly trusting or charitable. If the man had been more helpful earlier then George wouldn't be hurt.

George’s eyes popped open for a moment as he gasped, “That was unexpected and painful."

Still somewhat in shock over what had just transpired, Henry wasn't going to argue. He simply offered, in what he hoped was a comforting voice rather than a panicked one, “Hold on there, George. Help is on the way.”

“I much prefer the unexpected and pleasant,” George murmured.

Henry’s eyes snapped to George’s face, but with his eyes closed and his facial features only expressing pain, Henry wasn't sure what the other man had meant by that. He lacked the nerve to press the matter right now and refused to acknowledge the possibility that there might not be a later. Instead he stuck to comforting platitudes as he waited for help to arrive.


	4. Chapter 4

Henry sat in one of the chairs in the waiting area of the hospital, telling himself it was a good sign that they had made it here and he was stuck waiting. He had been pacing, something he found calming, but the pointed glares of the nurse had him taking the seat. It was possible that a pacing police officer was unnerving the other people present, especially one who had blood on his uniform. 

He slouched down in the chair, staring up at the ceiling as though it held all the answers, and wondered what George had meant by that comment. It could be anything, really; from something as innocent as getting an unexpected treat like sweets to what had happened the night before. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility, but what would that mean? Henry tried to recall what, if any, reaction George had given. It hadn't been a long kiss and when Henry thought about it, he tended to recall only his panic once it sunk in what he was doing. George had probably still been in shock; the question was whether it had been a good one or bad.

“Constable Higgins, how are you holding up?”

The question penetrated his thoughts and caused him to look away from the ceiling to Dr Grace, who was standing in front of him, a sympathetic look on her face. Right, her; the primary reason that even if George was favourably surprised the night before, it meant nothing in the end. He sat up straighter as she took the seat next to him and gave her a strained look of sympathy of his own. After all, she would best understand how he felt.

“I spoke to the duty nurse.” Dr Grace nodded toward the woman whose stare had caused him to give up on pacing. “She said that he would be settled in a room shortly and we’d be able to go in and see him. He won’t be awake, of course, but it will help.”

“Help?” Henry, now staring at the floor instead of the ceiling, was a little confused. Okay, more than a little.

“I know that in your line of work you are on some level prepared for the possibility of having to see a colleague badly injured or worse, but there is a difference between knowing something in theory and experiencing it in reality. Especially when you witness the event firsthand the way you did,” Dr Grace explained. She laid her hand on his forearm and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Add in the fact it was someone as important to you as I know George is. It can only be helpful to get see firsthand that he’s going to be okay as quickly possible.”

There was something about her tone and choice of words that made Henry look at her, study her face to decipher what exactly she was implying, but all he could see was the expected pain and concern that usually accompanied such events.

“And he is going to be okay, right?”

“Yes,” she said with confidence that allowed him to release some of the tension he had been holding inside. “The blade didn't hit anything vital. The only real concerns are blood loss and possibility of infection.”

Henry knew she was speaking from a strictly medical point of view, whereas he appeared to have morphed into a big sap; he couldn't help but feel that the knife had hit something very vital. It hit George. She gave his arm another short squeeze as though she could sense his thoughts. He hoped she couldn't actually read his mind or he would be in big trouble

“George is strong and a fighter. Quite stubborn too. He’ll be fine. He may be weak for a while, but he’ll bounce back quickly,” she stated reassuringly. “And to make more worry for yourself by considering the possibility of infection.”

“No need at all,” Henry muttered more to himself than her. 

“Everything is going to be okay,” she said to comfort herself as much as him, or so Henry suspected. Henry was more than willing to believe her when it came to George’s injuries. He simply could not entertain the possibility of any other outcome. That didn't mean the mess he had made before the stabbing would be anywhere near okay. But then she didn't know about that fiasco.


	5. Chapter 5

Henry popped into George’s hospital room without knocking to find the man in some sort of disagreement with Dr Grace. About what he didn't know, since it currently consisted of the two glaring at each other. He really shouldn't be delighted in this, but he couldn't help himself. He was, however, about to apologize for interrupting when she stood up, turned towards him, and gave him a smile that threw his thoughts into disarray. What she said next did not help the situation.

“Excellent timing, Constable Higgins. I was just leaving and George has something he wishes to discuss with you.” She turned back toward George and gave him a pointed look as she smoothed down her dress. “Don’t you, George?”

George pulled a face of defiance but muttered, “Maybe.”

“No maybe, George, do it,” Dr Grace ordered as she left the room. 

Henry watched her leave before taking the guest chair. Taking in George’s now somber look, he stated, “You don’t have to listen to her. She is neither your wife nor your mother, the only women a man has to listen to if you ask me. Unless you have a female boss at work.”

George flashed Henry a look of amusement and he shrugged, “We have female doctors, why not female bosses?”

“True enough,” George chuckled, a soft smile showing briefly on his face before it returned to the more sober look of before. “We will have to have that conversation though, she’ll know if we don’t and take matters in to her own hands. Something I am sure neither of us would want.”

Henry was fairly certain this was a conversation be he did not want to have, be it with George or Dr Grace. Given that these appeared to be his only options, no skipping it altogether, he preferred to have it with George. With Dr Grace involved it would reach a whole new level of embarrassment. He gave a quick nod indicating his consent.

“Emily developed a theory, you see, in regards to your recent behaviour towards her,” George explained.

“A theory, huh,” Henry muttered as he leaned forward in the chair, his arms braced against his thighs. Looking down at the floor, he sighed. Definitely not a conversation he wanted to have ever.

“Yes,” George confirmed with a quick bob of his head, “She thinks that you recently came to a realization which has led to you to become somewhat jealous and possessive.”

 _Couldn't that woman be off the mark just once?_ , Henry thought as he rubbed his hand over his face, his agitation growing.

“I pointed out that if you had, you should be being nicer to her,” George continued, cleanly not expecting any input from Henry at this point. “She gave me that look she has that says ‘I know you’re smart enough to figure this out’. Do you know the one I mean?”

Henry gave a chuckle despite himself and, looking up at George, smiled and said, “I believe it is similar to the ‘You can’t be serious’ look she likes to use at the station.”

“Very similar,” George agreed. “She, of course, had meant that you were jealous of her and possessive of me. I had said that her idea was ludicrous. I mean, you interested in any guy, particularly me, seemed highly unlikely. You had shown no such signs of interest in men before.”

Henry had to bite his lip not to interrupt his friend. What did he mean by “particularly me”? Did he miss the part where Henry kissed him?

“Then you kissed me,” George added, so no, he hadn't missed that event after all. “And I thought for a moment that maybe she had been right. At least until you realized who it was you were kissing and jumped back like you had been burnt.”

Henry, who had dipped his head down again when George had resumed his tale of Dr Grace’s theory, snapped it up now to look at the man speaking. “Wait. What?”

“You remember, you jumped back and ran,” George accused him, the hurt showing in his eyes. “Then the next day you just wanted to ignore it, pretend it didn't happen at all.”

“No, no,” Henry said as he shook his head. He moved from the chair to the edge of the bed. “That’s not it at all. I didn't want to talk because I thought you’d end our friendship.”

“Why would I do that?” George asked. He looked genuinely puzzled by the idea.

“Because that is the least that most men would do afterwards, the very least. Generally a punch or several would probably be involved as well.”

George shook his head vehemently. “I’d never hit you over something like that.”

“I never thought you would,” Henry assured him. George was not the type to settle things through use of violence, except as a last resort. He took a deep breath and added, “And I didn't take off that night because I realized I was kissing you. Well, I did in a way, but it was because I hadn't intended to do that, not because I didn't want to.”

George stared at Henry in contemplation for a few moments before scooting down his bed closer to Henry. “So if I were to...”

“If you were to what?” Henry prompted after several seconds had lapsed and George failed to continue.

George never did finish his comment; instead he leaned forward and pressed his lips to Henry’s. It was the briefest of kisses with him pulling back quickly to take in Henry’s reaction. Henry followed George’s lead, rather than vocalizing a response. He simply slid his hand along the back of George’s and pulled him in for another longer, more intense kiss.

“Ahem.”

Both men pulled apart quickly. George managed to bang in to the bed’s headboard during his leap backwards while Henry lost his balance and landed on the floor. The sound of choked laughter had both glaring at the woman standing in the doorway.

“While I am happy to see you have everything straightened out and as sad as I am to interrupt such a tender moment,” Dr Grace said, her tone of voice solemnly at variance with her amused look, “I do feel I should let you know evening rounds are currently being conducted, so you may want to restrain yourselves. Best to keep it to the socially acceptable. Boring though that may be.”

“Were you outside the entire time?” Henry asked as he pulled himself up off the floor and dusted himself off.

“Probably eavesdropping while she was at it,” George insinuated. “Waiting to see if she needed to bolt in and add her two cents.”

“I was simply standing guard,” Dr Grace stated. “Trusting that you would do the right thing, George, and address the situation. Honestly, if men would just talk about their feelings once and in a while, it would be amazing how many misunderstandings would never happen.”

“Yes, because women never have misunderstandings of these sorts,” George said with a roll of his eyes.

Any further argument was prevented by the arrival of George’s attending doctor who dismissed both Henry and Dr Grace from the room so he could check his patient over in private. The man had given a pointed look to Dr Grace as he spoke and Henry suspected that he did not trust that she would not interfere with any examination he might do. He felt some sympathy for her. It was likely that if she had been male, the attending doctor would not have found her presence as intrusive, possibly even would have allowed her to stay. Of course the choked laugh she gave upon hearing the doctor’s comment to George diminished that feeling some, and the comment she made once the door closed pretty much wiped it out completely.

“I do wonder who, not what, has George’s colour improving this evening.” She smirked.

Henry flushed. He was not used to being teased by a woman who was not related and those who were would be too shocked or disappointed to do so. Still, there were a few matters he needed to clarify for himself and there was no time like the present to do so. “I have to admit, I was under the impression that you and George were involved.”

“Understandable, I guess,” Dr Grace replied. “We are simply very good friends. In a different world, I suppose we could have been more, but as it is I do not set my cap at anyone whose affections are already engaged, especially when those affections are returned. It is a pointless endeavour that leads to unhappiness for all involved.”

“And you are not bothered by the fact that your friend is...” Henry searched for the right phrase to use here. Many used by society were not ones he was comfortable with, even before he had realized that they applied to him too.

“No,” Dr Grace replied with a shake of her head. “I do not believe it unnatural or a sin. I find those notions to be what is odd, not what you feel.”

“I guess that explains why you were pushing George to speak to me.”

“Each of you was entirely clueless about how the other felt,” Emily stated to justify her interference in the matter. “I was certain you had realized how you felt about George, something that I admit I believe I had figured out before you. I was also aware of how George felt. And while it has been interesting watching you both, the matter needed to be sorted out. You must realize that I am not alone in these observations of the two of you. That I am not the only one who will be glad that you two have found happiness with each other, though I may be the only one to vocalize it.”

Henry stared at her, his mind racing, trying to identify who she was speaking of. “I am sure if people did know, they would be more likely to cast us out.”

“Sadly, that is a legitimate concern,” Emily conceded, “But believe me, the two of you have your supporters. Good people to have in your corner.”


	6. Chapter 6

Henry followed George into his rooming house. It had been George’s first day back to work after getting an all clear from his doctor and Henry had decided they should celebrate. He had also rushed George out at the end of their shift before anyone else tried to suggest a quick pint to mark the occasion. George, of course, had tried to go back right after he had gotten out of the hospital but Dr Grace had made sure that didn't happen.

“What exactly did you have in mind?” George asked as he let the two of them in to his room.

Henry didn't answer verbally; instead he pushed George up against the door as soon as it was closed, capturing the other man’s mouth in a passionate kiss. One that George very enthusiastically returned. Once the two broke apart, George stepped past him and muttered, “Does this mean a change in tactics? Because your behaviour since I got out of the hospital could lead one to wonder.”

“Wonder what?” Henry asked, turning to face his companion. “You don’t honestly think...”

“I get it, I do, you are being Mr Overprotective, though Mr Overcautious is probably more accurate in this instance,” George said, cutting Henry off. “You have a better memory of what happened than I do and I am sure it’s something that could have an impact on how you've been treating me since. Still, a man could wonder if perhaps someone might be attentive for reasons other than a deep-seated interest. Maybe he thinks someone feels guilty about matters that transpired hours before that might have affected the speed of his reaction time bringing about an unfortunate conclusion.”

“George.” Henry dragged the name out in exasperation. He reached out and grabbed the other man’s arm, pulling him in close. He slid his hand along the back of George’s neck as he leaned in for a kiss, one meant to be tender and reassuring. Then he put their foreheads together and murmured. “I assure you, any hesitancy on my part is not due to a lack of desire.”

George pulled away again and removed his uniform jacket. As he hung it up, he stopped for a moment, running his fingers over a few buttons before speaking, “I once asked Emily if I was attractive.”

Henry took a deep breath before commenting, but some of his continued insecurities bled through anyway. “I don’t think you need to concern yourself with her opinion on the matter.”

“One, I was asking in a general sense, not of her specifically. Two, it was before any actions or revelations undertaken by you.” George tapped his fingers as he spoke; counting off with a smirk on his face. “Three, I cannot believe you are still jealous of her.”

Henry shifted uncomfortably. “I wouldn't say jealous.”

“I would,” George shot back as he moved closer and he ran a hand down the front of Henry’s uniform. “It is kind of flattering. Although I assure you, you have no reason to be.”

Henry cleared his throat. “Is there a reason you brought the subject up?”

“Yes, there was,” George answered distractedly as he slid his fingers in between two of the buttons of Henry’s jacket. “Are we staying in or going out somewhere? If we are staying in you should take your jacket off.”

“I’m for staying in,” Henry answered as he removed the article of clothing under discussion.

“I brought it up because looking at my jacket reminded me of what she said,” George went on to explain as both removed any remaining outerwear. “Well, let’s just say she was in a silly mood when I asked. She tapped me on the cheek and told me I was as cute a button.”

Henry's brow furrowed. “Is a button even cute?”

“That’s what I said,” George exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Who wants to be compared to a fastener?”

“There is no question you are. It’s only the button that is debatable,” Henry reasoned. “Although I think adorable works better. It definitely applies when you are flustered or frustrated from teasing.”

“Adorable,” George scoffed as he poked Henry in the chest. “A word like that is won't get you anywhere with a man. You need to use words like handsome, striking, smart, dapper...”

“Given that this whole conversation started with you griping about how slow we taking this,” Henry cut George’s litany off to point out, “I doubt my choice of words is going to cause me much grief.”

“Fair enough,” George conceded begrudgingly. “However, it’s you that have been taking things slow. I've been trying to speed things along.”

“All this talk about you,” Henry muttered, not wanting to address George’s accurate statement about who was being slow. “Maybe I’d like to hear how you find me.”

“Thought you’d never ask,” George said as he grabbed the front on Henry’s shirt. Pressing his mouth against his ear, George whispered, “You are a walking and talking temptation to sin. One I am more than willing to give in to.”

Henry swallowed nervously as he pulled back. Tilting his head slightly as he placed his arms around George, Henry captured the other man’s mouth in a hungry kiss. He poured all his need, all his desire into it. It was the only response he could give to such a declaration. The kiss was eagerly returned as George wrapped his arms around Henry’s neck.

Once they broke apart it was Henry’s turn to murmur into George’s ear. “It was never about not wanting to, just your injury and my concern that I’ll muck the whole thing up.”

“We are both navigating uncharted territory here,” George said as he ran a hand down Henry’s chest. “I’m not about to cast you aside just because not everything goes perfectly from the start. Even if we were to overlook the fact that I am as new to this as you are, frankly I am not the sort of chap who would do so.”

“No, you are not,” Henry agreed with a quick nod. “But that doesn't stop me from wanting to make it perfect from the beginning. Perhaps more so since you are likely to be understanding.”

“Think about it this way, Henry, we’ll have to practice lots,” George suggested. “First to get it right and then to keep up our skills.”

“That’s one of the things I love about you, George,” Henry chuckled. “You have an optimistic outlook on almost everything.”

George leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Henry’s lips. “I love you and that’s not going to change.”

Blushing, Henry replied, “And I love you.”

“Yeah, I kind of got that.”


	7. Bonus Scene No 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had to write a couple of conversations that took place between George and Emily for reasons I will not bore you with but as Henry isn't in them they couldn't actually be included in the story itself. However, they have been beta'd so I thought I would throw them up just in case anyone was curious on what Emily had to to George about certain matters.

George was paying a visit to the morgue. It wasn’t work related, more of a social visit, but such was his life at the moment. Dr. Grace, or Emily as he was permitted to call her, had indicated there was something she wished to discuss with him and he did not aim to disappoint her by being uncooperative or unavailable. It was something she was unwilling to talk about at the station house, which lead to him popping into the morgue instead. Part of him would like to be able to say that this was an unusual development, but it would seem that popping into the morgue had become a regular routine.

“George,” Emily said as a greeting as he entered. Her voice possessed a higher degree of warmth than it did for most who entered.

George gave a nod of acknowledgement before speaking. “I understand there is something you wanted to talk to me about.”

He walked over to the table, taking in the body currently lying there. Not a victim of a crime, so George possessed no prior knowledge of the woman. He doubted she wanted to talk to him about anything morgue-related in any case.

“Yes, I do,” she replied as she continued to clean up after her latest autopsy. “I wanted to discuss your friend.”

“I do not know what is up with Henry,” George admitted, knowing full well which friend she was referring to. Looking distractedly about the room, he added, “He is usually a very amiable fellow, as you well know, with this change in attitude being a recent one. He was always more than pleasant in his interactions with you before.”

“Precisely why I wanted to talk to you,” Emily admitted, looking intently at George until he turned his attention to her. There was little point in sharing until he was properly focused. Once he turned to face her directly, she simply smiled and continued. “I do believe I have figured out why this change in behaviour has occurred.”

“You have?” George was somewhat surprised to hear this. She hadn't appeared all that phased by Henry’s veiled hostility, taking it in stride. Probably as Henry himself often appeared to feel guilty over his own attitude after the fact. It had puzzled George but he didn't think anyone else had given it much consideration.

“Yes, George,” Emily stated, amusement showing in her tone. “I am the one he seems to have taken issue with, after all. Though not so much with me as an individual as with my presence in conjunction with yours.”

“Pardon?”

“He only tends to exhibit the behaviour when I am in your company or if I am seeking your presence,” Emily explained. “Not that there are many occasions outside of those two, but when I speak to him outside such circumstances he is much more himself.”

George scrunched his face as he considered Emily's words. “But why now? It’s not like that is anything new.”

“I would assume he has now become fully aware some feelings he has in fact had for some time that are causing him to act this way.”

“If that were the case, shouldn't he be being nicer to you? You do not win the heart of a lady by being rude to her,” George postulated. He considered his own theory for a moment before adding, “Unless of course, he, like many of our mutual acquaintances, has erroneously concluded that our friendship is in fact a romantic one and is using this rudeness as a way to cope with what he considers inappropriate feelings for a friend’s girl.”

Emily folded her arms across her chest, something she was inclined to do when growing impatient. “I will concede that Henry, like many others, has drawn an incorrect conclusion about us; however, your theory fails given that he is nice enough on those rare occasions when you aren't present.”

She gave him one of those looks that spoke volumes. This one seemed to be saying that she knew George was clever enough to get it if he just thought about it in the right way. It also said that she wasn't going to explain it to him if he didn't. The two simply stared at each other for several minutes; George was turning the situation over in his head while Emily waited for him to work out exactly what she was saying. George, of course, was the one to break the silence. “If you are implying that Henry is interested in me then you are completely wrong.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” George insisted. “There is no evidence to support the idea that Henry is interested in men that way. And even if we were to ignore that flaw in your logic, there is still the matter of the unrealistic premise of him being interested in me.”

Emily stepped closer to George and looked him straight in the eyes. “It is my understanding that you have no issue with believing that a woman you are sweet on may return the feeling or at least be willing to consider you as a beau, but when I suggest that the man you are sweet on may feel the same as you do, you instantly reject the idea. Why is that?”

George swallowed nervously and looked away. “Sweet on Henry? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do not insult me George,” Emily warned. 

George turned back to his companion and stated in a calm but insistent tone, “You are wrong. Henry has no interest in me that way. If you do not believe he possesses any such in interest in you then his behaviour is probably motivated by envy of what he thinks is our situation. He has realized that he would like to have someone to share his life with and doesn't wish to be reminded that he doesn't have that.”

“And?” Emily prompted.

It took George a moment to realize what else she was asking. He sighed and responded, “I am a nice enough fellow. I treat women with respect and understand that they do in fact have minds of their own. I show no signs of an abusive side. I have a job that society in general, if not specific elements, considers respectful enough to not draw scorn. I conduct myself in a manner that helps maintain that respectability and earn a steady wage doing so. There are risks attached but there is also a widow’s pension should the worst happen. I don’t mean to make these women seem mercenary, just realistic given the dictates of our society. Not all are rebels like you. While not the best looking of lads, I’m not hard on the eye. All of this may add up to a good catch where women are concerned but men would have a much different outlook. And Henry in particular would not be overly impressed; after all, any weight that arises from my job applies equally to him.”

“You, it seems, underestimate your appeal to both sexes,” Emily stated with a smile. “You are a rare find. You are kind, considerate, charming, clever, and very easy on the eye, to use your own phrase. Something I am certain would greatly appeal to both.”

George flushed at her words. “I highly doubt many would use the word clever to describe me.”

“You've written a novel, an entertaining one that a reader would have trouble putting down,” Emily pointed out. “You are clever.”


	8. Bonus Scene No. 2

“He what?” Emily exclaimed. Having deemed George well enough, she had decided to confront her friend on what was bothering him. Well, what beyond the fact he had been recently stabbed. She hadn't quite expected the answer she had gotten. Moving from the chair to the edge of the bed, she asked, “Could you repeat that, please?”

“You heard perfectly well what I said,” George snapped, irritated at himself for actually giving in and telling her. ”I am not repeating myself.”

“And why was this development upsetting? I thought this would be a good thing,” Emily reasoned. 

“Perhaps if he hadn't fled the moment he realized what he was doing,” George informed her. “But he did once he came to his senses. He hadn't really been present the whole evening anyway, mind off somewhere or with someone else. Probably whomever it was he thought he was kissing in the first place.”

“Honestly, George,” Emily sighed. “I highly doubt that is what his running was about.”

“You weren't there,” George interjected before she could say more on the topic.

“And what did you do?” Emily asked, giving up on addressing Henry’s reaction directly. Instead she switched to George’s behaviour. That at least could be accurately accessed. “Stand there like a statue or actually react to the kiss?”

“It’s not like I had time to react,” George argued in his own defence. “By the time the shock of the unexpected wore off, he was halfway down the street.”

“And of course, the fact you were unresponsive couldn't have contributed at all,” Emily asked, drawing what she felt was a more logical conclusion. 

“It’s possible, I suppose,” George conceded. “Though I highly doubt it. As I said before, while I do possess characteristics that could appeal to a woman, I am sadly lacking when it comes to men.”

“I’ll tell you who is sadly lacking,” Emily muttered. “The fellow who gave you this complex. Believe me, he did not speak for all men everywhere. More importantly he didn't speak for Henry, whom I assure you doesn't think you’re lacking.”

“You sound awfully confident about you opinion on the matter.”

“I’m confident because I am correct,” Emily stated as she shifted from the bed back to the chair. “That is why you are going to talk to him about what happened and tell him how you feel.”

“I am?” George glared at the presumptuous woman once again seated at his bedside.

“You are.” Emily glared right back.

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll do it for you,” Emily retorted, folding her arms over her chest and sitting back in the chair.

“You wouldn't dare.” George exclaimed.

“Really George,” Emily scoffed. “I am sure you know me well enough to know I most definitely would do just that if need be.”


End file.
